


Are You Sure?

by whatsacleverusername



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Not Really Character Death, Paranoia, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Discussions, Scarecrow is a dick, Sleep Deprivation, not with Harley though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsacleverusername/pseuds/whatsacleverusername
Summary: Everyone needs a little reassurance sometimes. Especially the chronic paranoiac with a literal demon in his head.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane & Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane/Bookworm
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Are You Sure?

It’s cold. Bitterly so. He can’t hear anything, but Jonathan knows the wind must be howling by the way his hair whips about behind him. Though nothing else seems to be moving. Least of all the malicious shadow crouched in the concrete corner. A cell? Arkham? His vision is abruptly stolen away before he can be sure, a godawful, paralyzing sense of dread washing over him. He feels himself hit the floor, he feels his head collide with the concrete, but still he can’t see. Not for hours. Not until he’s once again standing, the same cold walls around him but in a narrow passage now. An alley. The specter is still there, darker than the surrounding shadows. There’s another man with him. He has his back turned, oblivious as Jonathan creeps up behind him. The wind howls without sound once more as he stabs a syringe into the man’s neck. As he pushes down the plunger, his vision goes dark again. It returns only seconds later, bringing him the image of the man tied down, deep wounds now littering his body, bloodied and bruised and begging for mercy, the scent of slaughter and decay pungent in the small room. Clawed hands shrouded in shadow give Jonathan his scythe, then gently guide him to raise his arms. The man screams, cries, pleads with him not to give in, but Jonathan’s grip on the weapon only tightens. The hands retract from his arms, letting them fall with the force of a guillotine, Jonathan’s cold, wild eyes trained on his target as the blade falls for what feels like forever, until-

Lurching upright in bed, Jonathan gasps awake, wide, terrified eyes flicking around the blurry room as his chest heaves. It takes him but a moment to come to his senses, immediately feeling nauseous as the sweat drips down his face. Sitting on the side of the bed, the scientist shakes his head and stills his breath, mentally scolding himself for acting so childish. Without realizing, however, his sudden haste to throw off the sheet startled the bed’s other occupant awake, who’s now looking at him in groggy concern.

“Are you alright, dear?” Edwin asks, sitting up as well.

“‘M fine,” Jonathan lies, quickly laying down again, back facing him.

Edwin frowns at that. After a moment of looking at the back of Jonathan’s head, he gets up and silently walks around to the other’s side.

“Move over, please,” he says softly.

“I said I’m fine,” Jonathan insists, but does so anyway.

“I know,” Edwin says, getting into bed again, tucking his head under Jonathan’s chin and resting a hand against his chest. “That doesn’t change the fact that I would like to cuddle.”

Huffing slightly, Jonathan rolls his eyes, but nevertheless moves one arm for Edwin to better rest his head, the other spindly limb wrapping around his waist. They both fall silent after that, nothing but the sounds of their breathing and not-so-distant traffic occupying the space. The almost silence, as silent as Gotham at night can get, leaves a wide berth for Jonathan’s thoughts to wander, quickly finding their way back to the subject of his recent nightmares. The screams, the blood, the agonized face- Fairly normal topics for his not quite nightly dormant mind. Except the person has changed yet again, though it’s always him committing the acts of inhumanity and violent cruelty in these visions. Even now, it makes his skin crawl to have Edwin so close when the blood on his hands and the scent of death felt so real.

Finally opening his mouth again, barely audible as if afraid of being heard, Jonathan asks, “am I… Do I scare you?”

Taking a moment to think about the question, unsure of its nature, Edwin answers, “sometimes. Though never mortally. I trust you.”

Jonathan frowns deeply at that, but says nothing.

“Why?” Edwin asks.

The scientist remains silent, attempting to pretend to be falling asleep.

“ _Jon_?” Edwin asks again, more urging now.

Clenching his jaw, Jonathan sighs, lightly rustling Edwin's short hair. How is he supposed to answer that? How is he supposed to say he’s been dreaming almost nightly now of brutally murdering him? _It’s alright, it was Eddie before you, and Harley before that, sometimes still is. It was Linda and Becky for a while, too._ Closing his eyes tightly and quietly groaning, Jonathan pulls himself away when he feels Edwin gently touch his shoulder. He gets up again before Edwin can try to amend the uninvited gesture, grabbing his glasses and padding out of the room, the only sound he makes being the pop of his bad knee readjusting to moving and supporting his light weight.

Watching him go and sitting in confusion for a moment, his mind still somewhat foggy from sleep, Edwin rubs his eyes and hurries after Jonathan, not having the foresight to acquire his own glasses in the process. He finds him leaning against the cabinets in the kitchenette, holding himself rather stiffly despite the lax position as he stares at the dimly glowing buttons on the coffee pot. If he was more sure of his current mental acuity, Edwin would swear he can hear the scientist mutter something to himself that sounds like the end of a conversation.

Steeling himself to try again, Edwin gently calls, “Jonathan?”

The taller man visibly jumps, briefly backing away in a hurry before stopping. He crosses his arms and only grunts in reply, turning his attention back to the brew.

“Please talk with me, _Liebling_ ,” Edwin says, daring a step closer.

Jonathan’s eyes flick to Edwin for a brief second, looking back to the coffee pot and digging his nails into his arms. Stepping closer once more, deciding it’s worth the risk of making Jonathan uncomfortable to be able to comfort him, Edwin doesn’t say anything as he simply leans against the counter across the coffee pot from Jonathan. They look at each other for a long moment, Edwin maintaining eye contact until the other man looks away, even then still watching. Glancing back at Edwin to see him still looking at him, Jonathan sighs in surrender and lifts his glasses up to rub his eyes.

He struggles for words, finally managing to say, “…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Jon,” Edwin says, his interrogative demeanor dissolving immediately. “You won’t-”

“I _will_ ,” Jonathan snaps, making Edwin flinch slightly. Quickly folding in on himself, he says, “I- I’m sorry, I- The- The psychologists say, and… And I agree, and- Christ, it’s only a matter of time, Edwin…!”

Clasping his hands to resist the urge to place one on Jonathan’s shoulder, Edwin says, “I know you won’t, Jon. I know you-”

“How do you know?” Jonathan asks. “How do you know I won’t snap one day? You’ve seen me when I- How do you know I won’t turn on you next?”

“I… I don’t,” Edwin admits, “but I _trust_ you.”

Staring at him for a minute, Jonathan sighs heavily and takes off his glasses, bending to rest his elbows on the counter and rub his face in exasperation. Going silent and hesitating to move yet again, Edwin looks away as well to think. Turning back to face Jonathan, he closes the last bit of distance between them, hooking his arm around the other’s and linking their hands together.

“I don’t care what the psychologists say, you and Harley included,” he says, “I don’t care how dangerous you are. I want to be with you. I feel at home with you. I know I’ll be safe with you, no matter what might come to pass. I know you would never purposefully harm me. I… I think it may frighten you, but I truly do trust you, dear.”

Uncovering his face and planting his hand on the countertop, studying Edwin's expression, Jonathan hesitates before asking, “are you sure?”

“I couldn’t be more so,” Edwin says softly. “I don’t care what the risk is, Jon. You mean the world to me. No matter what might happen, no matter what we have to get through, I want to be with you. _All of you_.” Gently tucking a piece of Jonathan’s hair behind his pointed ear, he adds, “I don’t want to leave you on your lonesome again.”

Closing his eyes once more, Jonathan forces himself to take a deep breath. He feels a surge of emotions twisting in his chest, never having been able to grow used to the potency and confusion of the feeling, suddenly painfully aware of his inability to fully convey his adoration for the inventor. He wants to tell him more than just a pitiful _I love you_ , but- Silencing his fears, he detangles his arm from Edwin’s, instead curling it around his back and placing the other on his cheek, kissing him and trying to put all of his feelings into the too simple a gesture. Edwin returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Jonathan and holding him closely, gently rubbing the other man’s arm and willing himself not to cry. When they both pull away just enough for breath, Jonathan leans his forehead against Edwin’s.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” Jonathan whispers with too much painful sincerity.

“Shh, you don’t have to think about that,” Edwin assures, stroking Jonathan’s cheek.

“You’re too kind to me,” Jonathan deflects.

“Even if you weren’t deserving of all the kindness I have, I still want to give it to you,” Edwin says.

“You shouldn’t, I-” Jonathan tries to further.

Cutting him off with another kiss, Edwin says, “Jon, I told you I don’t care. I love you. That will never change, _Mein Schatz._ ”

Jonathan tries to make some rebuttal, but finds himself incapable. Edwin knows exactly how to make those three words meaningful, and yet… Placing his hand over Edwin’s, Jonathan nods in acknowledgement, leaning against the other’s touch without even meaning to. That causes a small, tired smile to appear on Edwin’s face, lingering as he glances over to the all but forgotten coffee pot. He knows Jonathan won’t be happy if he pours out the coffee, and can already tell the man doesn’t plan on sleeping again despite his obvious exhaustion.

“…Would you like to watch the documentary on gothic literature I recorded?” Edwin asks.

A nod is all the reply he gets as Jonathan turns away to reach for two mugs and the sugar. He lets Edwin pour his coffee first so he can stir in his sugar as Jonathan fills his own mug, retrieving Edwin’s creamer from the fridge as well. Though he had let it move, Jonathan still hasn’t taken his hand off Edwin’s back, travelling to simply rest on his shoulder as they walk together to the sitting area, a realization that eases the latter’s smile. All the more so when Jonathan sits closer than usual to him on the couch, close enough that Edwin can lean his head up against Jonathan’s shoulder. In turn, Jonathan lightly rests his head on Edwin’s as he turns on the television, the hand on his back having moved to guide the arm around the older man’s waist as they sit, stealing glances, distracting themselves and each other if only for the moment. As they need it.


End file.
